


Shady Figures and Nasty Experiences

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 'Charlie quits working with Dragons after the war so he can be closer to his family. He takes to Knockturn Alley as a rentboy. When Ron comes across him in his trolling, he finds he's not repulsed by the thought of having sex with his brother...'<br/>Pairing(s): Charlie Weasley/Ron Weasley<br/>Rating: (G to NC-17) R<br/>Warning(s)): Incest, character death, slight undetailed violence, language.<br/>Summary: Who can truly protect a creature of the night?</p><p>Written for hp_sexstars fest over on Livejournal...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shady Figures and Nasty Experiences

**Shady Figures and Nasty Experiences.**  
  
“Are you going to arrest me?” Charlie asked, a smirk curling up his lips. They seemed far too red and sensuous in the flickering candlelight of the room.  
  
Ron swallowed, unable to answer him. He had gone from miserable hermit, to Senior Auror, to quivering wreck in the space of two hours. He had only answered the plea for someone to come on shift to relieve staffing pressure because he had been so sick of sitting at home, lonely.  
  
He hadn't cared when he'd been assigned to patrolling up and down Knockturn Alley, searching out for the illicit dark magic which still sparked in an underground world of shady figures and nasty experiences. He'd seen plenty of sex for sale as he walked. All it took was one flash of the scarlet Auror robes beneath his cloak and everyone had scurried off. Technically, prostitution was illegal. Nobody was meant to sell their bodies for sex in post-war, so-called 'perfect' magical Britain. Ron wasn't an idiot, though. There had been plenty of people that the war had damaged, who had lost everything because of their affiliation with the wrong side. It was inevitable in his opinion that some of them would turn to selling their own bodies, just to be able to afford to eat. And there were always people desperate enough to pay for sex and for company.  
  
Of course, he was meant to arrest them. He just couldn't force himself to do it. So one warning flash of the robes was all he gave them; an incentive to stay away. What he didn't see, he couldn't arrest.  
  
He never thought that, nearing the end of the alley, he would look into the eyes of his own brother, holding out a suggestive hand from the darkness.  
  
“No,” Ron said, finally, and swallowed again on the thickness in his throat. “I don't arrest...” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.  
“Whores,” Charlie announced for him. “You can say it. It's what I am.”  
“Why?” Ron whispered.  
  
Charlie shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. “It's easy money. I'm good at it. I gave up my dragons, I might as well do something else I enjoy, eh?”  
“But why would you enjoy having sex with strangers?” Ron fought to keep his emotions under control.  
“It's... liberating.”  
“And illegal.” Ron folded his arms over his chest, not sure where he should look.  
  
The room above a closed-down shop in the Alley was in decent repair, and he supposed it served its purpose. There was a large bed, and a sofa by the fire, but other than that, it was unfurnished. The floorboards were rustic and uncovered but for a few rugs.  
  
“Do you rent this place?” he asked.  
“Why don't you stop asking questions when you don't want to know the answers?” Charlie suggested. “You're clearly uncomfortable.”  
“Well, fucking hell, Charlie, if our situations were reversed, wouldn't you be worried, upset, freaked out -anything- about finding me selling my body in Knockturn Alley, where everyone's a creep and more than just a little bit dangerous?”  
  
His tone heightened during his rant. Charlie just stared at him.  
  
“You're my big brother,” Ron muttered finally. “And... I just... I don't like the thought of you doing this. Not all the force is like me, they could arrest you, put you in prison... that would be worse than you being miles away in sodding Romania, Charlie!”  
“Look, I need money from somewhere, all right?” Charlie finally burst out, his eyes blazing into life with anger. “I can't just sit on my arse and do nothing! I need money! I can't find a job I like so I thought I'd do this for a while. It's not as bad as you think. I only say yes to people that I like, I'm always safe, and it's always on my terms. What's the big deal?”  
  
Ron shook his head and drifted to the window, looking down at the dark, creepy lane which wound beneath them. “Anyone could do anything to you. They hate us, Charlie. There'd be a bloody good price on your body, head, _anything_. Your death or capture could give the spark for an uprising. They're baying for blood.”  
“I'm safe,” Charlie repeated, much closer than Ron expected him to be.  
  
He shivered as he heard Charlie's footsteps over the floorboards. His brother stood behind him and, slightly shorter, his breath skirted over Ron's neck.  
  
“You aren't safe.” Ron stared out of the window. “There's civil unrest, Charlie. You should get the hell out of here. If you want to pimp yourself, go and do it in Muggle London where nobody will recognise you.”  
“What civil unrest?” Charlie pushed.  
“I can't tell you.” Ron chewed his lip. “The government are trying to keep it under wraps. But... someone's gone missing, Charlie. Someone important. Every day, a little part of his body is turning up by post delivered to the Minister of Magic.”  
“That's sick.”  
“And that's exactly why you shouldn't be here.” Ron turned around and glared at him. “You have to stop.”  
“Ron... I wish I could, but...” Charlie shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets. “I've got guys that come to me for stability and a regular thing... I can't let them down.”  
“Try.”  
“I won't.”  
  
They stared at one another.  
  
“I didn't think you'd react like this, if you found out.”  
“Did you think I'd be all smiles and 'way to go, bro, you make a fantastic rent boy!'?” Ron exclaimed.  
“I don't know what I was expecting... but it wasn't this.”  
  
Charlie slouched away and sat down on the end of the bed, looking at the floorboards. Ron fidgeted where he stood, fighting with his emotions. Eventually he gave up and crossed the room to sit next to his brother.  
  
“You're good at this, then?” he whispered.  
“So they say.” Charlie laughed a mirthless laugh. “I... I don't know what to tell you, Ron. I can't tell you that I'll stop, because I won't... I'm... in too deep, I suppose.”  
“If I begged, would you stop?” Ron hated himself for asking.  
“No.” Charlie shook his head gently.  
“If I begged you to let me be a client, would you do it?” Ron murmured. He hated himself even more for asking _that_.  
  
Charlie's head snapped to face him with eye-watering speed. “What?”  
  
Ron couldn't repeat his request. Shame burned him up from the inside out. He didn't even know where the question had come from, but he knew why he had blurted it. His face reddened as he thought about it, and all the dirty desires he had kept buried for years on end. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.  
  
“I'll go,” he blundered finally, jumping to his feet. “I'm sorry. I won't say anything, I promise. Your secret's safe as long as you're safe. I-”  
  
He cut off abruptly when Charlie seized his face between two hands and held him tight. Ron choked slightly and sucked at the air, none of which seemed to reach his lungs.  
  
“I'd fuck you for free, any day” Charlie informed him, before stealing a kiss.  
  


* * *

  
  
_He's delicious. He's my littlest brother. I shouldn't want him. But I do._   
  


* * *

  
  
Ron tried to blink away the stars in his vision as he lay panting at the ceiling of the little room his brother rented to be paid to fuck in. He was completely naked. His cock glistened with Charlie's spit and his own come intermingled on the softening flesh.  
  
“You're good,” he conceded, closing his eyes and willing the bed to stop rocking. “You're so fucking good.”  
“I know,” Charlie smiled at him. His mouth was swollen and reddened from kissing and sucking. Ron shivered thinking that they were in such a state because of _him._ “You okay?” Charlie whispered, leaning up to meet Ron's lips again.  
  
He met the kiss and finished it before he answered with a small nod. He swallowed. “I... I don't know what to say.”  
“Then say nothing.” Charlie kissed the tip of his nose. “And don't think too much either, that's always been your problem... you over-think things.”  
“I think I'm allowed to think about the fact that my brother's just sucked me off...”  
“Same as I'm allowed to think that I've just swallowed my baby brother's come,” Charlie pointed out. “But I'm not going to let it eat me up; you might.”  
  
It was a fair comment, so Ron let it slide. He closed his eyes again and enjoyed the sensation of his pulse returning to normal.  
  
“I'll have to heal those,” Charlie mused.  
“Heal what?” Ron made a face.  
“The bite marks I've left all over your pretty neck.” Laughter filled Ron's ears. He vaguely remembered Charlie nibbling at him.  
“Oh.”  
“It's a bit more than oh... you look like you've been had by a vampire. Bruises everywhere. You bruise so easily... so pale...”  
  
Charlie kissed over Ron's shoulder until he ran out of skin and bone to kiss. Despite his previous talk of healing, he nipped Ron again at the juncture of throat and collarbone. His tongue flicked against the spot afterwards.  
  
“Can't help it.” He grinned, rising up to look down into Ron's face. “You taste too good.”  
  
Ron couldn't help the smile which lit up his face at that point. Praise from Charlie had always meant the world to him, perhaps too much, as that evening had shown. When he had started desiring his brother, he couldn't particularly pinpoint. But he knew that the stirring in his belly when he saw him half-dressed wasn't innocent. He'd known that since he was about ten. He'd been ten the first time he'd heard Charlie indulging in some self-love through a bedroom door. Ten when he bent down and looked through the keyhole. Ten the night he'd had his first wet dream, and woken up damp and ashamed. Ten. Only just into double figures.  
  
“How long have you wanted this?” Charlie asked, too intuitively for Ron's liking.  
“Too long,” he admitted. He shivered as his body began to cool. “Not that I should ever have wanted it. We're brothers.”  
“But we've just done it and now you can't take it back... and I don't think you want to.”  
  
Ron didn't answer.  
  


* * *

  
  
_I think about him all the time. He's become more than the older brother I could always laugh with, always lean on. I can laugh with him, I can lean on him, but now all I do at the end of that is kiss him, and be fucked by him, and I don't know how to get out of this. Or if I even want to._   
  


* * *

  
  
Vomit rose in the back of his throat as Ron looked at the latest delivery. It fell from Kingsley's fingers and landed on the papers spread across his busy desk. A solitary red curl, strikingly ginger, lay freshly snipped from the head of its owner.  
  
“Is that it?” Ron choked out, one hand over his mouth.  
“That's it,” Kingsley confirmed, his tone low, his eyes downcast.  
“I warned him,” Ron breathed.  
  
And warned him Ron had. Every time he had visited the small rented room above Knockturn Alley, he had tried to persuade his brother to pack it all in, to return to 'normal' life, even if that did mean moving into Ron's lonely flat and continuing whatever it was which had sprung up between them. He had been back so many times for sex, to be fucked out of his mind until nothing made sense any more. Most of the time he couldn't even speak by the end, he was so wrung out with passion and pleasure and sheer want. But it had always started the same: “Please, Charlie. Stop this. Please...” and variations thereof.  
  
It had clearly fallen on deaf ears.  
  
Face in his hands, Ron fell into the seat opposite the desk and said nothing, too choked with fear to even think about what to say or what to do.  
  
“Ron... I'm not going to sack you for what you've clearly been holding back. What's important is that we find Charlie. This is just a lock of hair. He could still be alive.”  
“And if he's not?” Ron demanded, tears blurring his vision. “What then, Kings? What do I go home and tell my mother?” He began to shake. “That her second child is dead, that he was working as a whore? That we...” he broke off just in time.  
  
When he glanced up, Kingsley's clever eyes were fixed upon him.  
  
“Where did your brother work, Ron?”  
“Knockturn Alley. He rented... he rented a room to take his clients back to.”  
“So we need to find out who owned that rented flat, don't we? But before that, we need to scope it out. If he's been taken by one of his...” the man paused and Ron blushed. “If he's been taken by a member of his clientèle, then there's a possibility they could be holed up in that room, isn't there? Does anyone else know of Charlie's... profession?”  
  
The man was struggling to retain his composure and Ron cleared his throat to answer. “Only people who... who use him,” he said finally. “And me.”  
“Nobody else, nobody in the family? You're sure?”  
  
Ron nodded. “Nobody. Just me. And it was an accident. He didn't tell me. I was patrolling the alley and there was this hand... I tried to talk him out of it, Kings, you've got to believe me. Every time I tried and told him that it was dangerous, that he could get killed or arrested and he just... he wouldn't have it.”  
  
Silence stretched between them. Ron reached up and wiped his face, which was wet with tears he didn't realise had spilled.  
  
“Last time it was very clear that the person was still alive... and it became very obvious when they were dead.” Kingsley got to his feet. “Take me there. Now.”  
  


* * *

  
  
_I know where you're looking, Ron. I'm not there. I'm so close but I doubt you're going to find me in time. Just look, follow your fucking nose and you'll find me. Find me. Please._   
  


* * *

  
  
“The life of a whore is always cheap, unlike the prices they charge,” someone murmured quietly.  
  
Ron would have shouted if he could. He would have killed the speaker, if he could have dragged himself off his knees and the bloody cellar floor. He would have made the man's life every bit as cheap, knocking it from his lungs as if it were only air.  
  
Yet he was glued to the stone, kneeling in the sticky pools of his brother's blood, looking at his dead body.  
  
“We were too late,” he whispered, voice hitching in the middle. “I was too late.”  
“There was never time.” Kingsley's voice was soft by his side. “He's been dead for hours, Ron. The blood's coagulating... we were always going to be too late. He was dead by the time we got the hair.”  
“What am I going to tell everyone? I let him die. I'm the fucking Auror in the family! I'm meant to stop shit like this!” Ron cried desperately.  
  
He looked into Kingsley's dark brown eyes and begged silently for an answer. The black wizard paused for a moment, then straightened.  
  
“The illegal profession of Charlie Weasley will not leave this room. It will not be recorded in any paperwork. It will not even be thought about. Is that understood?”  
  
The silence in the room was deafening.  
  
“Is it understood?” Kingsley demanded, his harsh voice ringing in the small, enclosed space.  
“Yes, sir,” the small team assembled mumbled finally.  
“We will put the story out that he was carrying out undercover work on Ministry request. Unfortunately that work turned sour with a fatal ending. Is that acceptable to you, Ron?”  
  
Ron nodded, numbness creeping into his bloodstream and spreading through his body. He reached out his fingers and touched them to Charlie's cheek. The fatal wound was vicious and gaping, all too obvious in its cause of deliverance. Ron's fingers began to tremble, smearing blood in a shaky streak across Charlie's cold skin.  
  
He had seen that skin so often flushed with heat in the middle of sex; felt that now-stiff body fired up and pressing him hard into the bed, fucking him into the space between awareness and unconsciousness.  
  
Nobody paid him any attention as he remained on his knees, touching his brother's bloodless face, with tears dripping from the end of his chin.  
  


* * *

  
  
_I'll wait. You'll get to me eventually, at the end of your life. And then I'll tell you that I should have listened to you. I should have stopped. You were right. It all went wrong. I trusted him and I shouldn't have. I'll tell you when you find me, and I will wait for however long it takes you. I'm so sorry that I've left you alone to deal with what you and you alone knew. I'm sorry that I gave you what you wanted and needed, and then left you to cope with the memories of it._   
  
_-fin-_   
  



End file.
